Maybe you feel like I do. The anticipation for the new year is intense. The year we are leaving has been a difficult year for many of us and the expectation that the year ahead will be better is palpable around our house.
I cannot wait for New Year’s Eve to arrive on January 19. Oh, I know there will be tons of college football games on December 31, which I will watch. But my New Year’s Eve celebration will be different than years past. It simply seems to me that the opportunity to start a new year does not happen like usual this time around.
The real opportunity to start over again will happen on January 20 not January 1. I know again there will be tons of college football games on January 1, which I will watch. But my New Year celebration will be different than years past.
On January 20, not January 1 we will inaugurate a president who is ready to battle a virus that has killed over 330,000 Americans. That gives me hope for the new year.
On January 20, not January 1 we will inaugurate a president who will speak civilly and respectfully to the rest of us. That gives me hope for the new year.
On January 20, not January 1 we will inaugurate a president who cares about the plight of the American people. That gives me hope for the new year.
The hostility and rancor in our political system may not go away quickly, but at least with a different president there is a chance for us to find common ground.
The chaos and incompetence of the executive branch of our government may not be fixed rapidly, but with a different president there is a chance to rebuild the broken system.
The divisions ripping our country apart may not dissipate in an instant, but at least with a different president there is an opportunity to lay down the weapons and reach out a hand.
The economic disaster that is destroying so many lives may not be turned around in short order, but with a different president there is a chance to rebuild the American economy for the benefit of all the people.
Maybe you feel like I do. I am looking forward with anxious anticipation to the celebration of this New Year on January 20.
After our experience with the ferry to England we knew flying was the best mode of transportation for us on our European travels. However, we gave the ferry one more shot on a trip to Denmark. The logistics looked more favorable putting the car on The Colorline ferry so we could drive through the Jutland Peninsula. The scenery in Denmark prepared us for living in the flat geography of Florida. Except for Jane being in misery on the two-an-a-half hour ferry ride the trip was a beautiful experience. We drove from Stavanger to Kristiansand on the southern tip of Norway to catch the ferry. Norwegians take the ferry to Hirtshals, Denmark to shop. If memory serves me well the cost of Aquavat was much less in Denmark than in Norway. Also, there was a lot of partying on the ferry to and from Hirtshals.
My memory of the rest of crossing the strait (Skagerrak) between Norway and the Jutland peninsula must be stored on a floppy disk in the recesses of my memory bank. Trust me when I tell you we made the ferry ride from Kristiansand to Hirtshals and back. It took us longer to drive from Stavanger to Kristiansand then it did to cross the water.
Probably, our first stop was in Aalborg about forty-five minutes south of Hirtshals where we stayed overnight, maybe.
Rain seems to be the theme for Aalborg, but we did manage to find the zoo
and visited the residents before traveling two hours farther south to Billund.
Legoland in Billund was our primary destination and we were not disappointed by the attraction.
We spent most of a day roaming around the displays and visiting Titania’s Palace. The palace consists of 18 rooms and salons, is 4’1″ tall, built in a scale of 12″ to 1″ and contains hand-carved mahogany furniture. There are 3000 tiny works of art and miniatures from around the world on display inside the palace.
We tried hard to recreate the itinerary for this adventure but have come up empty. My Jane has the excuse of dealing with the trauma of a ferry ride to block her memory cells, but I don’t know why I can’t put the schedule together.
What we do remember is that My Jane hung out on deck to begin the return trip to Norway for ‘awhile’. I think that means two or three minutes before she went below to claim a chair until we docked in Kristiansand. You must give her credit for enduring the ferry ride out so the family could visit Legoland.
Sarah and My Jane are standing on the rocks looking at our ferry in Hirtshals. We also remember that My Jane left her purse at the hotel. We do know we fretted about how to get her into Norway without her I.D. This fretting was done before we became familiar with the lax Norwegian immigration inspections. A letter to the couple at the hotel was all it took for My Jane’s purse to arrive at Frodesgada 10 without delay. The innkeeper and his wife became friends during our short stay probably because we were the only guests in the place.
Another weekend we flew to Amsterdam for our adventure in The Netherlands. We landed in Schiphol Airport, the third busiest airport in Europe, which is 13 feet below sea level. Technically, the airport lies on the bottom of Haarlemmer Lake which was drained in 1852. The first aircraft landed at Schiphol in 1916 when the air field was a military base. Creates a different imagine of “The Flying Dutchman”.
Our comfort food stop in Schipho was McDonald’s, of course. We caught the train for the 13.5-mile trip into Amsterdam where we found our hotel and checked in. We could only find two photos of this trip, so we have been over working our mental resources trying to remember what we did in the land of windmills.
We ate a lot of ice cream or these photos were taken from the same spot. What we did piece together is a bus/canal boat tour of the city with a stop at Anne Frank’s house where she and others hid from 1942 to 1944, during the German occupation of the Netherlands in World War II.
I continue to hope for us as a world to end the prejudices that cause suffering like hers throughout history.
Another excursion was a train ride to Keukenhof Gardens for a walk through all the Tulips in the world.
We must have taken a tour bus to Edam where we saw a windmill up close and visited a cheese factory.
I remember the gal in traditional dress telling us about making cheese in Holland.
We also bought a lace table runner and a little vase of tulips carved from wood. We still display those items in our spring decorations.
The most vivid memory was of the morning I got lost jogging. Usually, in new places I would pick an ‘out and back’ route for my daily jogging. This was smart because an ‘out and back’ route is exceedingly difficult to get lost on. Well this morning, I felt confident enough to take a turn, cross a bridge and take a side trip. This was not smart and I was desperately lost in no time.
Here I was in a strange land, not knowing the language before cell phones. This was a real pickle.
I came across the same city square at least six times and ran past the Heineken brewery three times before a friendly security guard pointed me in the direction of our hotel only two blocks from where we were standing.
Two hours after leaving the hotel I caught up to My Jane and Sarah at the end of brunch. It took a little bit of time for My Jane to not be angry with me for disappearing for such and extended amount of time. I was awfully glad to be back with my girls.
The Christian world is celebrating the season of ‘Peace on Earth’. During this season, the adherents mouth words such as, ‘love’, ‘joy’, ‘hope’, and ‘peace’. I wonder who all that love, joy, hope, and peace, is directed toward?
Could it be that peace is offered by God to all God’s people? Could it be that God does not have favorites who get the peace while others do not? Could it be that God intends for peace to be experienced by all the people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the Asian people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the African people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the Indigenous people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the Hispanic people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the island people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the Caucasian people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the LGBTQ people?
Is God’s peace meant to be shared by all the poor and disenfranchised people?
Is God’s peace meant to be peace on all the earth?
Peace on earth is something God intends to touch all people not just the people in your tribe.
This season of peace on earth is the best time to begin giving God’s peace to all God’s people not just those who look like you, agree with you or believe like you.
God’s peace is given to all the world’s people. Share it with your neighbor wherever they might live.
We could not limit our visits in the British Isles to only England, so we purchased seats on an Aer Lingus flight for a weekend in Dublin.
The flight attendant on the aircraft welcomed us to Ireland with her Irish lilt and we were transported into a unique new environment.
In Dublin we visited all the religious sites: St Patrick’s Cathedral, The Book of Kells at Trinity University and the Guinness Brewery.
Trinity is Ireland’s oldest surviving university and is widely considered the most prestigious university in Ireland, and one of the most elite academic institutions in Europe. Our quest took us to the library which is the largest research library in Ireland containing about five million books. The smell of books is over powering upon entering the huge library.
In the Old Library we found the Book of Kells along with the Book of Durrow and the Book of Howthand. The Book of Kells was created around 800AD and is an illustrated Vulgate translation of the Gospels.
Saint Patrick’s Cathedral (Irish: Ard-Eaglais Naomh Pádraig) was founded in 1191. Today it is the national cathedral of the Church of Ireland. With its 141 ft spire, St Patrick’s is the tallest church (other than diocesan cathedrals) in Ireland and the largest.
(Sarah and I are standing next to the fountain outside the cathedral .)
St. James’s Gate Brewery (Irish: Grúdlann Gheata Naomh Séamuis) was founded in 1759 in Dublin, Ireland, by Arthur Guinness. It became the largest brewery in Ireland in 1838, and the largest in the world by 1886, with an annual output of 1.2 million barrels. The smell of the brewery reaches your olfactory senses well before approaching St. James’ Gate.
In 1816 the Ha’Penny bridge replaced the ferries that until that year had moved people from one side of the Liffey River to the other. My Jane and Sarah visited with a couple folks who did not have the ha’penny needed to cross the bridge.
On our tours of the city we were sung to and told of unique Irish history. For example, we learned that Molly Malone was ‘celibate’.
Yes, she would ‘sell a bit’ here then ‘sell a bit there’! We also learned that if it was not raining, we should just wait a minute.
Our visit to the Dublin Zoo was shortened by some of that heavy Irish rain. I remember wading through standing water on that visit.
The Irish Potato Famine, also known as the Great Hunger, began in 1845 when a fungus-like organism called Phytophthora infestans spread rapidly throughout Ireland. Before it ended in 1852, the Potato Famine resulted in the death of roughly one million Irish from starvation and related causes, with at least another million forced to leave their homeland as refugees.
The memorial is a stark reminder of the seven years of suffering in the Emerald Isles due to hunger and government ineptitude. History unfortunately repeats the ineptitude of governments as we are seeing in Washington D.C. today.
That trip to Dublin was simply too short but so much fun.
Our trip to Scotland lasted a few days longer than the Ireland trip and also was so much fun. Scotland was a joint venture with our friends, Pat and Debbie and Mike and Sue. The three families made an incursion into Scotland one December. The timing says something about our decision-making ability! Who goes to Scotland in the winter? The weather did not dampen our enthusiasm as we shared a great time together on that trip.
We rode the train up from England to Scotland playing games. My recollection will no doubt be jumbled during the retelling of this odyssey, but I hope the highlights will be covered. The train travel fun was a continuation of our train ride experience in Wyoming. (See: A Quest: Memory Lane IX F. E. Warren Air Force Base part I) Only, this time we did not get yelled at for being too loud. Instead, other riders joined in our games. We had a blast.
Maybe some of the reason for my fuzzy memory was Mike’s promotion party. To celebrate Mike being promoted to LtCol, he Pat and I went pub hopping on Mike. Pub hopping for a promotion celebration in Scotland was a great experience, I think. The adventure went like this: first pub two pints consumed move on to next pub. Repeat. Suffice it to say that Mike’s promotion was officially celebrated. I remember somewhere in the third or fourth pub Pat telling me I had to taste this new beer because it was the best beer he ever tasted. My reply was, “Pat, you could give me gasoline and I wouldn’t know the difference.’ I guess I wanted Mike’s promotion to stick. Hey, free beer is free beer!
Here is a photo I took that night.
There was another night when much beer was consumed. We walked to a “restaurant” we were told was wonderful. As we walked, a red sports car zipped by us with the top down and a blond (strange for Scotland) driving. When we arrived, we noted the same red car parked near the pub entrance. Upon entering, all you could see was remodeling in progress, and some heavy curtains. We took a chance and walked through the curtains. Low and behold, a nice bar area with a few tables appeared before us. When the staff saw our crowd (which totaled 15) they took us up the stairs leading from the bar level and pulled tables together. We had a wonderful view of the entire bar area, and were entertained by Pat’s future son-in-law being schooled on how to properly drink scotch by a ‘local’ proudly seated at the bar. The poor blond we had seen in the red sports car ended up as our barmaid & server. She made countless trips up and down the stairs taking orders, delivering orders, etc. She earned her tip many times over. When eating ended the three older guys hung around while the rest of the family members when back to our lodging. We saddled up to the bar for a pint and soon were making friends with the locals. Suddenly, pints began to appear in front of us. Somewhere, in here Mike deserted us and left Pat and me to hold up the Americans’ honor. Well, I also could not keep up and would pass every second pint over to Pat who proceeded to drink his and every other one of mine. Hey, free beer is free beer! I do not remember leaving the pub that night. But we must have left! Pat claims that I was well supported on the return that night by his navigational expertise (Somewhere Pat is smiling).
Not the actual pub. But I needed a photo.
In Stirling we toured around town and visited the Stirling Castle. The first record of the castle dates from around 1110, when King Alexander I dedicated a chapel on the site. Scotland has an exceptionally long history. Leaving town on the train we glimpsed the National Wallace Monument out the window.
From Stirling we traveled to our next lodging in Aviemore where I believe the adults stayed in a B&B and the youth stayed in a youth hostel. From this locale we visited the ruins of Urquhart Castle which overlooks Loch Ness. The present ruins date from the 13th to the 16th centuries, though built on the site of an early medieval fortification. Urquhart played a role in the Wars of Scottish Independence in the 14th century. It was subsequently held as a royal castle and raided on several occasions by the MacDonald Earls of Ross. Urquhart was partially destroyed in 1692 to prevent its use by Jacobite forces, and subsequently decayed. After roaming the ruins, we discovered that Nessie is much smaller than we imagined!
Our visit to Culloden where the British destroyed the Jacobites revealed some terrible military strategy. The Scots charged across a plain covered in waist high thorn bushes into the teeth of the entrenched British forces of The Duke of Cumberland. The battle did not go well for the Scots.
We wandered around Inverness city centre and made a stop in Fort Augustus.
The Gaelic name for Fort Augustus is Cille Chuimein (ˈkʲiʎə ˈxumɛɲ) and until the early 18th century the settlement was called Kiliwhimin. It was renamed Fort Augustus after the Jacobite Uprising of 1715. We might have overnighted here but do not hold me to that. There was a stop at a tartan outlet that resulted in all of us owning something in our ‘colors’.
I purchased a scarf with the clergy tartan pattern. This pattern was outlawed by the British during war with Scotland maybe in the fourteenth century because the clergy were notorious for preaching a sermon before leading the congregation on a rampage against British forces. Ah, that is me, always the rebel.
We hooked up with an ice skating rink in Aviemore so some of the younger ones could burn off some energy while we adults sat quietly in the upstairs pub watching.
Pat and Debbie celebrated their 25th anniversary which, thanks to Craig, we celebrated in a most sophisticated manner, which was our style.
We had a great time with some great friends.
Parts of this blog would not have been possible without input from Pat. Thanks my friend.
Traveling from Norway into Europe was a special side affect of being assigned to Scandinavia. We did not travel as much as some of our friends, but we did take advantage of the proximity of adventures in other countries. Traveling from Stavanger to other European countries was a simple process and we took advantage of our opportunities.
On our first trip to England we took a Colorline ferry out of Stavanger so we would have our car to get us around once we landed in England. We were carrying on the long tradition of the Norwegian Vikings invading the British Isles in the spring of the year. Sarah and I enjoyed the experience, but Jane spent the trip horizontal going and coming.
In the photos we are passing the Tungenes Lighthouse in Norway and My Jane is upright for the only moment during the crossing to England. Our other visits out of country (except one) where accomplished on airplanes. We became remarkably familiar with the Sola Airport and SAS airlines.
We also noted the lax nature of the Norwegian international arrivals’ inspections. Sometimes a customs person was standing around the arrival area but usually we just walked through an empty space, into the airport main concourse and into the taxi que. Norwegians were very relaxed.
Leaving the ferry in Newcastle we drove our American car south on the ‘A1’ to Mildenhall. The four-hour adventure especially at night was a challenge. We caused many angry responses from northbound traffic due to the configuration of our headlights which shown into the eyes of the oncoming drivers. We lost count of the number of times headlights were flashed at us on that trip. I am not clear about where we were geographically, but I remember passing the exit for ‘Sherwood Forest’ which was a little exciting.
This trip occurred soon after Sarah pulled the ligaments in her ankle and was still receiving treatment. My Jane was driving Sarah to the doctor and forgot which side of the road she was supposed to use. This is how Sarah tells the story, ‘Mom went around the roundabout fine. When she went to exit that is when she tried to kill me.’ Apparently, My Jane exited into oncoming traffic and had to complete a panic maneuver to escape metal crunching. Sarah continues to remind her mother how she almost killed the two of them in a round-a-bout in Mildenhall, England.
It takes a little effort to drive on the left side of the road. Also, when crossing the street, it takes a few attempts to remember to look for traffic coming from the right instead of the left.
On this first trip to England we hooked up with our friends Pat and Debbie who showed us around a few spots of interest. The bunkers near Dover on the east coast of England facing the German army across the English Channel were a reminder of just how tenuous British survival really was until Hitler turned on Stalin easing the tension on the Brits.
Another stop on our adventure was the medieval Dover Castle. The castle was founded in the 11th century and has been described as the “Key to England” due to its defensive significance throughout history. Some sources say it is the largest castle in England, a title also claimed by Windsor Castle.
We visited Ely cathedral which dates back to 1083. Sarah and I were wandering along the canal while Debbie and My Jane were scouring an antique shop when the canal boat owners invited us in for a tour. I could almost live on one of those canal boats. Almost.
We also spent part of a day in Cambridge. Stops on that tour included the University,
and The Eagle Inn (formerly known as the Eagle and Child) It is the second oldest pub in Cambridge after the Pickerell Inn. During the Second World War, Allied airmen, who drank and socialized at The Eagle, used wax candles, petrol lighters and lipstick to write their names, squadron numbers and other doodles on the ceiling of the rear bar.
The tradition is believed to have been started by RAF Flight Sergeant P. E. Turner, who climbed up on the table one night to burn his squadron number on the ceiling. Consumption of adult beverages may have contributed to this tradition. We didn’t write our names on the ceiling, but we did down a pint or two I don’t remember the exact number!
Another time when I was in England on Air Force business, Pat and I decided to drive up to Lavenham, the crooked town.
On the way, we found The Manger public house a 15th-century building with 16th- and 17th-century alterations. It was referred to as “Bradfield Manger” in the will of Thomas Roberson dated 16 July 1660. It is a popular pub and restaurant and a handy meeting place for clubs and special-interest groups. Pat and I recognized the need to visit the pub for a ‘biblical’ experience, if you know what I mean.
Adjacent to The Manger is All Saints church. This building is officially dated 1066–1539, with a late 12th-century Norman font and doorway to the north of the nave. We were standing outside the building looking at it when a woman came out of the cemetery and asked if we wanted to go inside. We accepted her offer to unlock the door and allow us a private tour of the old building. Two wall paintings in the nave represent St. George and the Dragon (c. 1400) and St. Christopher.
Being immersed in all that history reminds a person how small we truly are in the grand scheme of history. Maybe on this trip Pat and I began hatching a plan to start our own ‘church’ in a pub. The idea sounded radical at the time but turns out it has become somewhat mainstream today. We thought we could make it work because I was a preacher, and he was a piano player/choir director plus we both liked beer.
On our family’s first trip to England we caught the train into London to see the musical Oliver.
This being our first trip to the London theater district we made a few mistakes. The first mistake was the tickets we purchased for Oliver which were in the last row of the balcony against the back wall of the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. Not great seats but a great show!
The second mistake was leaving as soon as the final curtain fell. Sarah has still not forgiven me for leaving before the curtain call. In my defense we had to catch the last train out of London for Mildenhall. We were not prepared to spend the night in London, so we rushed out to take the Underground to the train station. One stop into the trip to the train station there was a power failure along the entire Underground. We headed back up to the surface and walked to the train station still with plenty of time before the consist pulled out. We learned a lot about ‘doing’ London on that trip.
Every subsequent trip to England had to include theater seats because theater was number one for Sarah, with ‘Les Misérables’ being her favorite musical. Our weekends in London always included at least two shows. On those trips to London we had seats so close to the stage that we could feel the spittle from the actors. One trip we stayed out at The Isle of Dogs which is a little trip into the theatre district. We were riding the Underground into town to see Les Miserables at The Sondheim on Shaftbury Avenue when I noticed a clump of folks standing at the end of the car. The group looked like actors and I pointed them out to Sarah and My Jane.
We should have approached them and asked for autographs because this group was part of the cast of the show we were heading in to watch. And wait for it, Stig Rosen, Jean Valjean, was in the center of that group.
I don’t know if she was in the group in the Underground but Madame Thenedier was played by Liz Ewig in that show. Sarah wanted me to write that we saw John Owen as Jean Valjean in another show. We remember the show because that was the first time the actor was young and had to be aged instead of being older and being made up as younger in the beginning of the musical.
On another trip our Norwegian travel agent misunderstood our desire to see three musicals in one weekend and did not reserve the seats for us. There we were outside The Majestic Theatre all revved up for Phantom with no tickets. Fortunately, there were three tickets available if we wanted them. Unfortunately, they were in the balcony. Fortunately, they were in the front row of the balcony. Unfortunately, the seats were the last three against the side wall. Fortunately, they were unobstructed views. Unfortunately, we were sitting at the same level as the chandelier. After I got over the idea of causing bodily harm to our travel agent with encouragement from my sweet spouse, we all had a great time at the show, of course.
Also, on this trip we scrounged around for tickets and scored some good seats to ‘Buddy’ about ten rows back in The Duchess, near Covent Garden on the second hottest day in history (Sarah’s wedding day was the hottest). The theater was built in 1924 and apparently had some issues because everyone was supposed to stomp and clap except the folks sitting in the balcony. Of course, I sang along with all the songs but no one around me minded because they all were singing along as well.
We did more than attend the theater in London. All the best known tourist spots were visited by us on one trip or another to the city. (Alexa: Play England Swings by Roger Miller)
Each trip to London we tried to find something new to experience and of course we ate lots of fish and chips wrapped in fake newspaper.
The pain and shock of losing any election can be intense. Losing a presidential election is that much more painful. The loser’s supporters can feel cheated, sad, angry, depressed and lost. These are normal feelings and expected when you suffer a loss. What isn’t appropriate or normal is claiming without evidence that the election was stolen from you by shadowy forces that do not exist. When you latch on to fact less, fictional and untrue claims to assault the election process you leap into unacceptable abnormal behavior. When you act on these unfounded accusations you become a participant in the dismantling of our democracy. The destruction of our democracy will result in much more pain and suffering than we are experiencing right now. I am imploring my senators to stand up to this assault on the democratic process. Here is my latest letter to our two Florida senators.
Senator,
Democracy is dying. You are withholding lifesaving medication that can save our fragile democratic process.
The president and his cronies are killing democracy using conspiracy theories and inuendo. You remain silent.
His ‘go-fers’ are calling for ‘martial law’ to overturn the will of the people. You remain silent.
The president’s minions are threatening bodily harm and death to patriots performing their duties to upholding the constitution. You remain silent.
State officials (Republican and Democrat) are defending democracy against the insanity trying to rip it apart. You remain silent.
The justice system is upholding the law in the face of unfounded accusations aimed at tearing down democracy. You remain silent.
Stop being a toady for the president. Be an American hero join with your fellow Republican Senators to denounce the sociopathic attack on our voting system. Stand up for the patriots who are defending our democracy from this wannabe dictator. Praise the hard work of the honest election officials and volunteers who have given us an election free of massive fraud. Reassure the American people that our election system is honest and secure.
Do your job and defend the constitution from this unhinged attack by the president.
The return ferry trip from Helsinki to Stockholm has not been retained in the memory banks.
Also, the exact timing of the events in Stockholm are hazy at best. Maybe some of the adventures placed on the first day in Stockholm happened during the second day. I do not know. We did see George slay the dragon some time. Blame the fuzziness on sleep deprivation or possible hallucinations.
What I do know is we invaded The Stockholm Hard Rock Café where we partied long.
Maybe we partied too long.
Leaving the Hard Rock Café we duck waddled over to the train station where we claimed our cabins and settled in for the night’s journey to Copenhagen. Those of you who know your geography will tell me a train cannot travel from Stockholm to Copenhagen. You are correct. My memory is not that fractured that I imagine a train crossing water to Denmark. Our overnight trip included transferring the train onto a ferry for the crossing before putting the train back on tracks in Denmark. I slept through the transfer from land to ferry but did wake momentarily when the a locomotive coupled to the train after the ferry docked in Denmark.
The family likes to say that a female German soldier wrapped her baton on the cabin door shouting at us to get up and off the train. I do not remember that part. (Alexa: Play, “Trains and Boats and Planes” by Dionne Warwick)
Our arrival in Copenhagen corresponded with breakfast time at a McDonald’s located in the terminal.
Standing in line, Jeff being Jeff, struck up a conversation with three drunk Germans waiting to place their order. Jeff was still talking to the three while the rest of us carried the meals to a table where we began eating. Eventually, Jeff arrived in a very agitated state. Turns out the Germans did not like Americans and Jeff was almost involved in an international crisis. Not happy with us for leaving him unprotected Jeff muttered something about his cowardly family who left him alone. We of course, did not know at the time, Jeff was in trouble. Kendra had been the last one to leave Jeff’s side and when asked where her Dad was, she replied, ‘He is talking to some people’. We were accustomed to Jeff conversing with strangers so there were no alarm bells ringing. Fortunately, Jeff extricated himself with some diplomacy and everything turned out fine. I know it turned out fine because after breakfast we walked by the passed-out Germans laying on the train station floor.
We duck walked to the best sleeping quarters we had on this trip. Unfortunately, we were too early and could not check in, but were allowed to leave our luggage in a storage space near the front desk. We found our way to Tivoli Gardens, the second oldest operating amusement park in the world. The Mountain Coaster, a wooden roller coaster, is the only ride I remember. There is a fuzzy mental photo of some sort of mirrored attraction we walked through. The gardens were beautiful as I remember from our wandering around the park.
We left Tivoli and headed for lunch at the Copenhagen Hard Rock Café.
Upon entering the restaurant I announced that we were trying to visit as many Hard Rocks as possible without taking a shower. That remark was followed with an explanation that we had been to Stockholm the night before. We were immediately ushered to a table far away from other guests to continue our adventure without infecting the more sanitary diners. However, our server was exceptional and inquired near the end of our meal if the Copenhagen staff was better than the Stockholm staff. We gave the Copenhagen staff ten stars which made them incredibly happy.
After lunch we found our way to the start of our guided tour of Copenhagen with a well lubricated tour guide. There was no doubt she had been visiting a local Brewmeister before meeting us for the tour. The guide was proficient in three languages which she kept in order for about half an hour. By keeping in order, I mean she spoke a paragraph in language one, repeated the same paragraph in language two then repeated for language three. It was very pleasant until the beer she had consumed completely obliterated her mental faculties. She soon began using all three languages in the same sentence. The result was that no one knew what she was talking about. In this state of intoxication our guide was able to inform us of the following,
1) One of the members of ABBA lived in that house on the hill. Unfortunately, there were six houses on the hill and four members of ABBA.
2) That brewery down the street makes exceptionally good beer. This might be where she had stopped before the tour.
3) This is a statue of some guy who wrote children’s books. It was a statue of Hans Christian Anderson.
4) I will meet you here when the boat returns. She did not! I wonder if she is still waiting for us at the dock?
We did not need the guide to enjoy ourselves. The guide was actually another of those odd occurrences that make a vacation special like having a baby dropped in your lap, meeting an angel and a spy and starting an international crisis.
Copenhagen’s changing of the guard was the most casual of the three we saw. The four young men carrying their M-16s casually marched through the crowd gathered on the square while we, the crowd, moved aside for them to pass and advance toward the crayon case they stood guard in.
The tour boat ride portion of the tour without the guide traveled through the canals to the little mermaid statue. The statue is small enough that sometimes it gets stolen. Fortunately, it had not been stolen before we showed up.
For some reason, maybe something to do with our guide we were still on the canals as the tide came in. Passing under the last pedestrian bridge before our dock, the boat roof scrapped along the entire length against the bottom of the bridge making a horrible metallic screech.
There is a tight clearance between the canal boat and the bridge on a good day.
Disembarking and looking for our guide we noticed a guy we imagine was the boss having some heated words with the pilot of the boat. With no guide available we found our own way back to our hotel and probably a Pizza Hut. I am almost certain we also tasted some Carlsberg beer just to see if the tour guide was correct about the brew.
The next morning, the best we can remember, Jeff, Randy and the cousins boarded an airplane for Reykjavik, Iceland where they toured the fifth Scandinavian capitol. Apparently, My Jane, Sarah and I also went out to Copenhagen Airport and flew back to Stavanger. We know we are not still in Copenhagen and flying makes the most sense for our choice of transportation back to Norway.
Family gatherings almost always include stories from our Scandinavian Capitols Tour. We saw a lot in a short period of time and the memories are special.